Remember Me
by temporaryinsanity91
Summary: an alternate ending to a recently-written tragedy. T for language.
1. Prologue: Home for Christmas

**well enough of you whined about this ending for me to think of an extension. several folks made suggestions, but when i tried writing them, nothing worked. it's been four months since i wrote this, and i finally have a mostly completed short story.**

**I want to dedicate this to my mom. when i wrote this i was sad, tired, feeling hopeless. but now for me and my family, there's hope. for her, there's going to be a better life, and, like the characters in this story, she'll rise above the challenges she's faced and all the treatments she's had and will have to do, and things are looking very, very up. she's taught me that anything's possible, and i don't even have to be a Possible. ****I love her, and this is for her.**

**diclaimers and credits at the end of the story. i hope you all enjoy this.**

* * *

"I love you, KP."

"I love you too, Ron."

"I'll see you in a week?"

"You bet!" She ended the connection with a bright smile and a kiss, and he sighed. Since she'd gone to GCU he'd been working almost non-stop. The holidays were coming up, and Smarty-Mart was going to be busy as all hell.

He missed her. He missed how her eyes looked greener when she was focused—or stubborn—and he missed how she smelled. He missed making her laugh. Most of the time she was busy, working on her paper, or working on her study sheet for her test, or working on something or other.

_Dreaming of home at this Christmas time  
Even more than I usually do_

They only ever saw each other on missions, in which case she was focused on getting bad guys instead of making out. Not that he blamed her, but he wished she'd give him that tiny little smile she saved for him when she felt a surge of affection.

After his spectacular display of monkey-powered fireworks, he'd gotten better at keeping up with her. He took training seriously, and spent as much time as he could sparring with Kim, letting her teach him. He admired her confidence, her ability to act surely and decisively, simply because she _knew _she could do anything; it wasn't her just her motto, it was her life's philosophy, and she lived by it, as surely as anyone lived by any religion. She showed him that it was okay to believe in himself. And slowly but surely, he was catching on. He missed seeing the pride in her eyes when she pushed him to his limits and he somehow prevailed.

_I'll be home for Christmas  
You can count on me_

God, he missed her. He heaved a heavy sigh as he finished stocking up food and toys in the pet needs aisle—aisle 17, right next to the aisle where he met Rufus, that was such a good memory for him— and headed back to clean the animals. If he didn't love Kim so much, there would be no way he'd be cleaning lemur crap out of all night. But he had to do it. He had to be better for her, he had to quit slacking off. She was gone, and if he didn't keep his ass in gear she was going to move right along.

He heaved another sigh. He told himself that only to psych himself out. It was his deepest fear—that she'd find a straight A student or a college jock or pretty frat boy, and she'd be over him. But the rational part of his mind knew Kim loved him. She had been great about calling him, keeping him in the loop about everything—she even had Wade send him his own Kimmunicator. That promptly drowned in the turtle cages, but whatever.

The song came wafted from the speakers in the ceiling, and he frowned as he felt himself miss her more. "Well, this sucks," he mumbled to himself, wishing he could find some way to break free of his sudden melancholy.

He'd taken most of Kim's winter break off. He wanted to be able to do things—namely sleep and eat on a regular schedule—with Kim. She would be just what he needed to lift his spirits this holiday.

He had to work Christmas Eve. It sucked, but everyone had hustled to take the holiday before he got around to it, and by the time he looked at his schedule there was nothing he could do except maybe bail at the last possible second. He had the morning shift though, so he could conceivably be on his way to celebrate with the Possibles by 11:30. They always made hot chocolate to go with lunch on Christmas Eve. Kim always looked so pretty sipping her Christmas mug, her pink lips puckering as she sucked at the sweet fluid.

He always got whipped cream on his face so he could make silly faces at her. She would roll her eyes or stick her tongue out at him. Last year, she'd kissed his chin until the white stuff was gone, and he felt something inside him he'd never felt before. Actually, he'd felt it once, another Christmas. In the North Pole... there had been a mistletoe and she'd kissed his cheek.

_Please have snow and mistletoe _

He absently rubbed his face to get rid of the light tingling he still felt there sometimes. Christmas was special to her. She had to come home and be with him, and with her family—and they'd have a game night on New Year's and watch movies, and he'd curl up with her and hold her. His arms ached, and it wasn't from all the heavy lifting he'd done tonight.

God, he _missed _her. He missed the way she tasted when he'd kissed her after she'd eaten a candy cane. He missed the way her entire face lit up every time a new package appeared under the Christmas tree. Let no one be fooled, Kim Possible might have been a hardened bad-ass hero, but she was the biggest kid during the holidays. He loved hearing her sing Christmas songs when she thought no one was listening, dancing a little bit to whatever holiday tune came on the radio.

_And presents by the tree_

He smiled a little bit. He'd see her soon. And maybe he'd dance with her, too.

_Christmas Eve will find me  
Where the love light gleams_

His iPhone rang again, and he looked at it. Wade, on FaceTime. "What's up, Wadester?" Wade's face was so distraught that he gulped. "Wade? What's wrong?"

"Ron. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news... something has come up. Kim... she went on a mission."

"Alone?" he hissed, equal parts angry and worried.

"I'm sorry... she said it was no big, and that she didn't want you getting in trouble at work so that you guys could spend the holiday together. It went fine, she did great."

Ron sighed. "Where is she?"

"I haven't called her parents yet," he whispered. "Kim hitched a ride with Bernice, the cropdusting lady."

"Yeah I know her," Ron said with a shrug.

"Five minutes ago, Bernice radioed a Mayday. I have visual confirmation that their aircraft is down."

Oh no. No, no, no no no. Oh, fuck... please no. "Have you heard from her?"

Wade's face said it all. "NTSB is there. They found two bodies."

"Wade... no," Ron begged, tears streaming down his face. "Please, tell me she's okay."

"Ron, I... I'm sorry."

_I'll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams._


	2. Chapter 1: If Only In My Dreams

"Are you awake?"

"Unh... I think so," she croaked. Everything hurt. She tried to think of where she could be, or how she got there, but all there was in her head was pain. She tried to ask, but nothing came from her mouth except a pained whimper.

She looked down at herself, blinking. Everything was blurry—she didn't know if she'd always been this nearsighted, but she didn't like it.

Everything was white. White gauze covered her left arm, her torso, and the upper part of her left thigh. There was a cast on her other leg... and... oh God. She was missing _toes_?

Considering how much pain she was in, that she figure that if she only lost toes, she was doing better than she thought.

Her head hurt the most. She asked the woman that had just spoken to her to please shut off the lights and put the blinds down. It helped, a little.

Speaking was painful. She was informed that she had multiple skull and jaw fractures, and that her mouth had been wired shut for weeks. They took out the wires four days ago.

Sleep was uncomfortable. Her back hurt. They told her she was lucky, her back had been completely broken, but by some miracle there was no severe spinal chord damage. Oh God. Everything was broken. Her back, her ribs—her face, apparently—her leg, her wrist, her pelvis.

And then there were the burns. The nurse had started to clean her burns, and the searing pain made her black out. They covered her entire left side, from her neck to her thigh.

When she opened her eyes again, there were a hundred tubes all over her, including one in her throat. They told her they kept her sedated after she passed out, because coded and needed to be put on a respirator.

Days passed. She tried to think, to remember how she'd gotten to that hospital. Nothing came up in her mind. They asked her what her name was, but she didn't know. It started with an A, maybe. Her face was still swollen and painful, too much for them to try to match her picture anywhere.

Her vision got better, briefly, but then the painful blurriness was back. They said there was possible neural damage to her eyes.

There were x rays and MRIs and CAT scans, and therapies and surgeries. She wished she could pass the time faster—or slower. She wasn't sure. She never knew how much time passed.

Weeks passed. She asked to see herself in a mirror, once. Her eyes were green. Her hair was very, very bright. Like fire, or lava. She had pale skin, marred by purple and red bruises, disfigured by swelling and cuts that were beginning to scar.

She wished she knew what happened. But she didn't dare to ask. She didn't want to know. But she wished she did.

That conundrum was enough to induce another headache. She blocked it out as best she could, and went to sleep.

There was someone. His face lingered just outside her memory, but she knew he existed. And he _loved _her. She could feel the tingle on her lips that said he was... someone very special to her. She wondered who he was, what his name was, if they could find him.

She'd dream about him, but in the morning, her dreams were gone, just like her memories were.

She cried.

* * *

When he received the news, he'd panicked so violently that Mr. Barkin had to sprint to aisle 72 to find emergency sedatives. In a strange fit of compassion, Mr. Barkin also took him home and put him in his bed. Giving him tea that he'd secretly infused with a touch of brandy, he left the boy to his grief, calling his parents as well as the Possibles. Only then did Mr. Barkin understand the reason for the younger man's pain, but Ron didn't think anyone would ever understand the _depth_.

He didn't leave his room for weeks. He was depressed and filthy, without the motivation to shower or shave, eat or sleep. His parents, unsure of what to do, left him alone. He lost his job at some point, but he didn't care. Friends flocked in from all over—Felix returned from Stamford University, Monique arrived from France, where she was doing a semester abroad. When they saw him, numb and empty as he was, they took up residence in his living room and refused to leave, somehow getting the dull blonde to eat and drink, to get some rest, and most of all to finally start taking care of himself. He didn't try to get his job back, but his friends eventually were convinced that he'd take care of himself and gave him space.

Even people he didn't expect flocked to Middleton from all over. Bonnie had not gone to college. Junior and her had moved off to some Caribbean island to live it up, but flew in when they were notified. Bonnie immediately called together the Mad Dog alumni, the cheerleaders that had been on the team while Kim had gone to school with them. People flew in from places like Alaska to places like Madagascar.

He spent Christmas in Kim's room. He got a small tree, lights, and decorations, and all of the stuffed animals, flowers and candles that had been overflowing the Possible home were transferred to her room. He bought her gifts with the severance pay he got. He placed them under the small tree in her room. A charm bracelet, those fancy Pandora ones. A soft purple sweater she'd been complaining about for weeks, since she wasn't able to afford it. Extra small. She was always tiny. He'd always been small too—but in a scrawny way, but he eventually filled out some. She stayed thin, even as she grew taller... _curvier,_ slightly... but one thing never changed about her: she always fit perfectly in his arms. He could still smell her on him, on the days where her memory haunted him constantly. He bought her her favorite perfume set: Amber something or other, from Bath & Body Works. She always smelled like that, kind of fruity, and kind of spicy. He remembered how her lips curved in a challenging smirk when she was about to fight; he bought her her favorite lipgloss. It tasted like cherries, and so it was his favorite too.

Sometime in January, he packed up the lights and the tree. The uneaten candy and mints were put away, and he put her still-wrapped gifts in her closet, or in the drawer of her nightstand. He lit her candles, and then he cried again. Anne came and cried with him. When her husband asked if they should maybe clean out her room, she agreed only to give her clothing to charity, but not to remove her belongings... she knew Ron needed to be in there.

February came. He spent Valentine's day in her room. He got her another gift—a box of Godiva chocolates. And a watch from Macy's that was pretty and feminine and reminded him of her. It was the last of his savings but he didn't care. He slipped the watch in the drawer of her nightstand, and left the chocolates on her desk.

March came. It was her birthday, and he spent that in her room, too. He got her a Club Banana gift card. He got a new job, and he even smiled when he put the card in her nightstand, next to her watch and her lip gloss. He wrote her a letter to go with it.

_My KP:_

_I wish I knew why you had to go. I miss you all the time. But I see you everywhere. At the mall, at the lake, when I go by the school on the bus. I um... sort of abandoned the Smarty-Mart gig. You were always visiting me there, and it got too overwhelming to remember making out with you in the stock room or buying you pretzels at the stand near the entrance, or kissing you after you had a red slurpie..._

_It hurt too much to stay. So I left. But now it's different. I still miss you painfully... but instead of just laying down, I'm doing what you would want me to do. I'm fighting back. I want to _remember _you, not be in pain. It will get better for me some day._

_I know though, why _I _have to go. I won't... stay in Middleton after this. My new job is temporary. I'm saving for a ticket to Japan. It's a one-way ticket. I won't be back in this town, this state, or this country... ever again. I've decided to move on. I know you wouldn't want me tied down here by your memory. So, I'm going to carry you with me. You would want me to do better, because you loved me. You would want me to fulfill whatever potential you thought that I could have... and I need to find that potential for myself. You'll be with me somehow, I know you will._

_For now I'll just keep working, keep thinking about you, loving you... I'll never stop doing that, I promise._

* * *

She imagined what her parents could look like. She knew, vaguely, that her eyes were green, and that her hair was red. It was short and matted... she'd had stitches and various surgeries while she was...

She wondered about her age. She guessed herself to be maybe seventeen. She told the nurse that, and she agreed. There was a police officer with her the next day, and she told him what she had guessed about herself. He agreed to look through the national missing persons lists to see if there was anyone missing that could be her.

Outside, snow turned to rain, and rain turned to sunshine. She glanced at the date on the wall. June 21, 2013. she'd been there more or less six months.

Why did no one search for her? By now they probably thought she was in someone's freezer or something drastic that way.

She closed her eyes. These days, it helped with the headaches. She wore sunglasses constantly, not bothering to take them off, even at night. She had begun therapy only a couple of months before. She could hardly stand, let alone walk. She didn't want to anyway. There was no where to go. She was alone, after all.

* * *

_Ron!_

She yelped, bolting upright, his name on her lips. Ron, Ron, Ron. His name was Ron. He was hurt, she saw it. Something happened to him. God why couldn't she see his face?!

She screamed for the nurse, tears spilling down her cheeks. The nurse came running moments later, terrified.

"Ron," she cried desperately, her hand grasping the woman's. "Please, Ron... you have to find Ron, don't let him die... _please _don't let my Ron die! Please!" She was screaming again by the end of her plea.

A male nurse came in, trying to calm her down as he gently pried her hands from the other nurse's shirt. "Who is Ron?" He asked gently when the other nurse scurried away, mumbling about water and medication.

"I don't know," she sobbed. "He's my Ron. I can't even see his face but he's mine and I don't want him to die... _please_."

"I'm sure that whoever he is, he's alright, okay?" The man said. He was tall, and kind of solid... he had messy brown hair and blue eyes that were full of kindness. He had a cowlick on the side of his head, making his hair even messier.

She pleaded with the kindness in his eyes to not let him die.

"Look... I don't know your name, or where you come from... but if he loves you the way you say, hes wishing and looking for you every day. He'll be okay, and someday, he'll find you. Okay?"

She sniffed and nodded.

"Do you want to tell me what you dreamed about?"

"I don't remember. All I remember was..."

* * *

Ron dodged the blade almost expertly, blocking the next blow smoothly. A star sailed past his head, but he ignored it. Sensei was in trouble. Sensei became mother and father to him when he moved here. He spoke to his parents occasionally and missed them greatly. But he knew he needed to be here to heal. Sensei understood his grief, and helped him discover that part of his destiny was to keep Team Possible alive. He trained hard, day and night. Eventually he didn't cry anymore, and the dead pain in his heart lifted, to be replaced with the less heavy ache of always missing her.

Now the Academy was under attack, and fury heated his whole body. They would _not _take this from him, too. People _lived _here. They'd found some sort of peace, and they were happy. He'd needed that so much. Now they were attacking, and he felt himself be filled with foreign power. That had happened once before, when the Lorwardians were attacking... _her..._ and he shuddered. He did his best to control it, his wild imagination conjuring images of the mountain lighting up with white-blue fire that turned it into a nuclear wasteland. He shook his head and fought harder, until they wouldn't come anymore.

His arm was bleeding, but he ignored that too.

Sensei was behind him. He was saying something. He tried to focus.

"It is over, my son," his deep voice said.

He lowered his blade, his eyes darting around. "Are they gone?"

"They have retreated. Yamanouchi is safe. You are injured, please let Yori take care of you."

The slight girl pulled the red silk scarf from her hair and tied it around his arm in a tourniquet. She gave him a hesitant smile, and he finally allowed himself to be taken back toward the campus medical office to be treated. There were lots of people that were injured worse than him, and he stopped abruptly. "These people need help."

"Be reasonable, Stoppable-san," Yori told him. "We must take care of you so that you can help these others."

He glared. "Kim would help them first."

Yori sighed. "Kim would make sure she is well enough to help."

"She would do whatever it takes, and so will I. Help me or get out of my way."

In the past two months, Yori had learned that that threat was a valid one. She turned to the nearest injured student, and he sighed in relief. They were able to administer first aid to the majority of his students before the pain in his arm, back and torso became too much.

He leaned back against a tree. Against his will, his eyes slipped closed. He drifted, and as he did, he imagined drifting with _her._


	3. Chapter 2: You Can Count On Me

Wade Load was tired. Exhausted, really.

He still monitored the website, police scanners, and agencies like he'd always done. He knew, though, that no one would answer those calls anymore. It made him sad.

Kim was like the older sister he never had. When he was younger, six or seven... still in high school, actually... she'd come to babysit him while his parents were at work in the summer. He told her that sometimes in daycare, which he had to attend during the school year when she was in school, he was picked on and bullied, called names because he was smarter than everyone else his age. He told her how he felt that he would never fit in, and that he was afraid and lonely. She talked to her parents and his, and that fall he went to daycare where the Tweebs went for after-school care. They became fast friends, and Wade slowly felt himself come into his own. He still preferred to be alone, very much so. But he was eternally grateful to her for helping him overcome his fear.

After that, he told her everything, and she listened with patience and kindness. He, in turn, began to watch her website. His loyalty to her had quickly surpassed loyalty to anyone else. He made it a point to be available for her twenty-four seven.

But then she died. _Fuck_, he cursed internally when his eyes watered. His mom chose that precise moment to pop her head into his room to check on him, and he mumbled about having to sneeze or something. He faked one, and she left, satisfied.

She died and he was left with hundreds of thousands of people that needed help, a best friend/boyfriend/sidekick that was the living dead, and the cold reality that no one in the world would ever replace Kim.

He decided to run a scan of hospital and morgue records and cross-reference them with missing persons lists. He did that at least twice a week... even though Kim wasn't around to stop super villains, the Team Possible website frequently helped missing persons be reunited with their loved ones. Some endings were happy, but most of the hits he got were from John or Jane Does that made their way to their homes to be laid to rest.

Something dinged, and he looked up blankly. A girl with no name, in a hospital in Montana. He read her description and gulped. A female. Red hair, green eyes... severe head trauma and no memory of who she was or where she came from. Her injuries were extensive, and she'd been in that hospital for months. Nine months, to be exact.

It wasn't possible... it wasn't _Possible._ She was dead, they found her body in the wreck in the mountains. It was charred beyond recognition, but her things were found. Her grapple-dryer, her glove. Her shoe. Her shoe had blood in it, and two of her toes. DNA had confirmed the toes were hers.

It wasn't her. He'd identified her things himself. Her family laid her to rest months ago. Ron had been destroyed. Dead and alive at the same time. The town had been two hairs short of rioting in the streets out of grief and rage after the FAA confirmed the plane was brought down because of sabotage.

He nodded to himself. It wasn't her. She was gone. This girl was someone else.

But something nagged at him. His gut felt like it was full of cinder blocks. He had to check, he had to see for himself that she wasn't alive. He picked up the phone.

* * *

She had a week left. With no idea who she was, the hospital bills were piling up. With no one to pay, they had to let her go. She could walk on her own, now, so she would be fine, that was their reasoning. She was terrified, though. It became clear to her that she would eventually lose her vision. They told her it was sympathetic-opto-something-or-other, caused by trauma to her brain.

But they were still throwing her out because she couldn't pay. They told her they'd _done her a favor,_ keeping her as long as they had, and that was only because some of the nurses had fundraised to pay for some of those bills. But it was warm now, and she could move around, so they had to let her go.

She wished they'd just let her die.

Her nurse walked in, holding up her iPhone. "There is someone that wants to see you," she said quietly. She gently took the phone, turning it toward herself. An African-American boy stared at her. His features were sort of blurry, and the light from the screen was so bright she asked the nurse to turn the brightness down. She watched the boy in the screen, wondering who he was. His features were sort of vague to her, because of her vision, but she could clearly see his dark brown eyes and the way they'd become glassy in the last couple of seconds.

"Kim," he breathed, and in the next second, he was sobbing.

"Hi," she said, confused. "Uh—so, I take it you know me."

He forced himself to regain his composure and nodded. "Oh God... we all thought you were dead..."

"Can _you _tell me who Ron is?" she interrupted.

He stared blankly. "What?"

"Ron. I remembered his name... I dream about him all the time... but I can't think of his face, or why he means something to me. He's the only name I remember. Is he... okay? Please, tell me who he is."

The boy nodded, wiping at his face with his sleeve. "I can do you one better. Give me a day or two, and I'll send you Ron live and in person." He saw her eyes brighten and he knew he was doing the right thing. He frowned when her eyes watered.

"Please don't let them kick me out," she whispered. "I have nowhere to go."

His dark eyes somehow got even darker. "They're kicking you out?!"

"They said that... that there's no one to pay for me, but they couldn't leave me helpless in the street. So they rehabilitated me so that I could leave. I can't, I have nowhere to go... _please..._"

"I'm going to send help," he said. "They won't kick you out. Give me a few hours okay?"

"Okay." She paused. "What's your name?"

"Dr. Wade Load, pleased for you to meet me again," he said with a big smile. "I won't let anything happen to you, okay?"

"Thank you, Wade." Wade. His name seemed familiar too. But she didn't know his face. She was anxious. She knew her family would be hurt when she didn't remember them. "Wait," she whispered.

He looked up.

"Can you tell me about my family?"

Wade grinned. "I will tell you all about them when I call you back. Right now I've got to get your family and Ron on their way there, and take care of the stuff with the hospital. Then I'll answer all your questions. Okay?"

"Okay."

"We've all missed you," he said quietly. Then the connection terminated.

* * *

"Stoppable-san, there is someone calling you."

He frowned. He'd only talked to his mother yesterday, there was no reason she'd be calling back. He quickly bowed to his sparring partner and took his leave. "H'lo?" He said suspiciously.

"It's me Wade."

"Wade, why are you calling me here?!"

"Oh please, you _know _me, Ron. I don't _just call _people. I have to protect myself. I also know that place is secret. I've encrypted this phone call, 512 bit. It's safe."

"Okay."

"Listen to me. You have to come home right now."

"Why, what's wrong?! Are my parents...?"

"They're okay. But right now, the Possibles are packing their things. They're taking an extended trip to Montana. They've... I've located Kim. She's not dead."

Ron swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. "She is_ dead_," he hissed. "Wade, please don't do this to me, I can't take these kinds of sick jokes."

"It isn't a joke. I talked to her myself, I saw her face. It's her, Ron. And she remembers nothing except for your name. She needs you."

He felt his chest both squeezing and inflating at the same time. It was extremely uncomfortable, but he didn't care, because he knew Wade was telling the truth by the tears in the younger boy's voice. He exhaled, rigidly maintaining his composure. "She doesn't remember anything?"

"She remembers someone named Ron, according to what she told me. She said she knows someone named Ron was very special to her, and she has nightmares about you constantly."

"She... knows my name."

"You need to pack up now, Ron. A helicopter will be taking you to the airport in ten minutes. Your flights are booked."

"I'm... I'm on it, Wade. _Thank _you."

"Always."

* * *

Dr. Anne Possible was reading her daughter's chart. She didn't give a _shit _about hospital rules or anything like that. The girl was sleeping when they arrived, and the nurse advised them to let her rest, that she hadn't been sleeping well. So instead of running to er daughter and engulfing her in the tightest embrace she could, she took the charts from the wall and studied them.

Amnesia, of course. Head and back trauma. Multiple fractures that would heal. There was some neural damage, she could lose her vision. There were no known cures for this type of optical nerve trauma. But there were drugs and surgeries that could delay the loss of vision, some of which she was very familiar with. There was also research, experimental things she was also very familiar with, that were also very promising. She would definitely seek treatment for her baby girl. She'd exhaust every possible method to make her daughter well again.

She put the chart down and sat down with a sigh, preparing herself for a very long night.

Someone burst into the room and barreled past her, screeching to a halt at the side of her bed. "KP," he choked out. He slipped off his shoes and laid down next to her, burying his face in her shoulder, crying until he fell asleep too.

A few minutes later, her daughter gave a deep sigh. "Ronnie," she mumbled.

He was wide awake right away. "Kim?" He looked her over. "Am I hurting you, I'm sorry—"

"She's still sleeping, Ron," Anne said quietly.

"Oh."

"Welcome home," she said quietly, a small smile on her face.

"Thanks," he whispered hoarsely.

* * *

When she woke up she was warmer than normal. There was weight on her body. It wasn't unpleasant, but her back was starting to hurt, and she needed to shift. She opened her eyes, waiting for them to adjust and quit hurting. The lights were low, and it was night time. She cautiously removed the sunglasses from her face and looked up.

His face was inches from hers, and his mouth was open. His breaths fanned over her face. His eyes were closed, and his hair was in his face.

She studied his features as best she could. His face had light pink wrinkles from sleeping on his arm. His sweatshirt rode up, and she could see that he had a scar on his side. She reached out and traced it before she could stop herself. He jumped awake. "Hey," he mumbled, a big grin forming on his face. She found it endearing.

She didn't want this boy to go away, so instead of answering, she shifted on to her side, resting her head on his chest.

She felt him swallow hard. "I missed you, too," he whispered, his arms wrapping around her.

"Did you?" she whispered, already half asleep. She felt him nod and kiss her hair.

He hummed a song, seeing her falling asleep. His voice wasn't exactly operatic, and she was sure he exaggerated the fact to amuse her.

She giggled a little bit at his off-key tune, finally letting herself fall into slumber. "You're weird," she whispered, "But I like you. Please... stay."

Ron waited until she was asleep for his tears to fall.

* * *

He felt himself sway with exhaustion. He made tea. Black tea. With lots of caffeine. In Japan he'd lost the little bit of taste he'd acquired for coffee. He put one packet of sugar in.

He sipped it and frowned. That was obviously hospital tea. Well that was uninspiring. God.

Earlier, she'd woken up again, and he told her everything he could about himself, and about how they became friends. He told her that she'd said those same words to her the day they met. She hugged him so close then. "You're _my _Ron," she mumbled into his chest, not for the first time. "Don't go, okay?"

"Never," he'd said fervently, like he always did.

Tomorrow they would transfer her back to Middleton Medical Center where she would be undergoing treatments for her vision and rehabilitation for her back. He could tell she was nervous.

"What if they make it worse?" she whispered.

"They won't, KP," he said soothingly. "I don't know if you knew this, but your mom runs one of the best neurology centers in the country. She's met tons of famous doctors and researchers and stuff, and she's been pretty selective in what could work for you. You'll be okay, I promise."

* * *

She got to talk to Wade again. Ron was with her, constantly rubbing her arm or kissing her hair, or offering her some other form of affection. She reveled in it. She asked him how they got together yesterday, and he told her all about how that freaky Eric had wooed her into almost destroying their friendship, and how his blinding jealousy had been his moment of clarity. They got together officially, after they kissed _twice _at junior prom.

She'd touched her lips, remembering the tingle she always felt there. It was from a memory that dangled just out of her reach... it had been dark, and they were... there was something...

He'd grinned. "The first time you kissed me. In the North Pole. You kissed my cheek, we were under the mistletoe."

She'd felt the stubble of his cheek on her lips. That was why it tingled so much. The memory was not very clear, and she still did not see his face. But she remembered feeling his skin on her lips. She wanted to feel it again, and he graciously offered her his cheek. She kissed him lightly, and he responded with a blinding smile and a light kiss on her forehead.

She didn't understand why she liked this feeling so much, why she was so attached to him. Intellectually she knew that she'd been with him romantically for a long time, and that they'd maybe even been sexually active...

She flushed. Best not to think of that, or ask. He would be hurt that she didn't remember those things. She saw the flash of pain in his face every time she asked a question about their relationship. She didn't like to see him hurt.

"What's got you down, KP?"

She shook her head, offering him a weak smile. "It's nothing."


	4. Chapter 3: Dreaming of a Place Tonight

How do you fix a relationship with someone who doesn't remember you?

Ron sighed as he ordered himself lunch at the BN Express that had been put in the cafeteria. He also grabbed her a large, unsweetened iced tea. She remembered some things—less things, by far, than the last time she'd had amnesia.

He couldn't help but feel a bit smug. Last time Kim had had amnesia, she'd regained her memory of everything except her relationship with him. This time, the only thing that had remained in her memory was how much she'd loved him.

She was always asking questions about them. While she knew that she'd loved him, she didn't remember many details of their time together, so he obliged her, answering ever question he possibly could with stories of their childhood and their relationship. He told her everything he could remember from their first day in preschool together to their first kiss.

She'd giggled at the first kiss story, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. "You must have been so confused," she'd observed, her face still bright with amusement and a little bit of shame.

He'd chuckled a little bit, his fingers reaching her cheek, feeling the heat there. "I'd been confused the whole day. And you'd been chasing me around with your fancy cheer moves and badical kung-fu skills—I never stood a chance, really. When you kissed me I passed out. Oh, and also, Wade called in that moment, and he saw you kiss me... and then he choked on his drink and fell off his chair choking."

"Did he really?"

"Yep. Made my top ten list of most awkward moments. Right behind parachuting into the United Nations with no pants."

Her peals of laughter had made his day. She'd dozed off soon after, and he'd slipped out to grab a bite.

He sighed as he waited. Despite her amusement, he noticed that she became more and more withdrawn and morose with each question she asked and each story he told. He didn't know what to do, and the strain was becoming more evident between them.

He was afraid. He just found her, and he couldn't lose her again. Not while she was still breathing.

"Thanks and have a _muy bueno_ day," said the girl behind the counter, handing him his order. He nodded absently, and headed back up the stairs. A _muy bueno_ day, huh? Well, he obviously wasn't having a muy bueno day, because if he were he'd be eating a _Mucho Guaco Naco_ at the BN near Middleton High, with his girlfriend—maybe fiancee—instead of a crappy burrito at the hospital's express store.

He got upstairs and Kim was resting her eyes, completely still with her hands limply at her sides. She was clearly tired or in pain—or both, and he wondered if the physical therapists or eye doctors had been in here while she was gone.

"KP," he whispered.

"Headache," she mumbled back.

"Have a cool drink," he said quietly, pushing a straw through the hole in the cup. "I brought you something from downstairs."

She took it gratefully and sipped it. Her nose crinkled and she frowned. "Tastes bad."

He tilted his head. "Unsweet tea. It uh... you always used to get that, I figured you might like it."

She sighed and looked down, and he saw she was trying really hard not to cry. "Kimmie," he mumbled, putting the drink on the stand next to her bed and taking her hands. "KP, what's wrong, baby? What can I do?"

She scoffed. "What can _you _do?! You _do _everything! It's me that can't get anything right. You're here all the time, you're patient with me, and you... after everything I've done to you, I'm here, screwed up and incomplete and incapable of remembering how I take my damned tea... I didn't even know your face! I'm the worst friend in the entire world, and you—"

"Wait, hold it," he snapped, raising one hand. "Hold on just a second. _You're _the worst friend in the world?! Who told you that complete bullshit, so I can kick their ass," he hissed.

She looked down to where she estimated one of his hands was still holding hers—in the dark, her vision was still too poor for her to make out the shapes. "All the stories you told me about... you know... I mean, sometimes the things I did..."

"Oh, KP, no baby," he said gently, brushing the wetness from her cheek. "You—I mean, we were teenagers. We did crappy stuff to each other all the time. Your first year as cheer captain, I made you date Brick Flagg—after totally misquoting you in an interview, mind you—so that I could get on the school paper. And then I insisted on covering the date. As a result, Brick and I both got kidnapped _and _you got dumped on national television.

"You're so out of his league, though. He was so dull and you're just... I made up the story about you liking him, and it went totally viral. It was the talk of school for days—until Brick broke up with you, anyway. And then I made a story up about that, too."

She gave him an unimpressed look that read '_I'm not happy with you_' and pursed her lips. "You did that, really?"

"Totally. In that moment I was probably the worst friend ever made. I was a jerk to you sometimes too, you know. But times change, and so do people, and that's part of life. It was different when we started to date... to grow up. We changed. Everyone changes."

"But nobody has changed as much as me," she whispered. "I'll never be who I used to be."

"KP... I spent the better part of a year a complete mess because _you _were _dead._ Do you think that right now I care about you remembering how you take your tea? Maybe your taste changed, I don't know, that's fine. But you're _here,_ and you're _alive, _and somehow, even though you forgot everything else, you remembered that you still love me."

"I... well, yes, but I don't remember us, I don't know what we were like. Those stories that you tell, I don't remember any of them."

"And I'm too excited that you're alive to care," he said bluntly. "Yes, it sucks. I hate seeing you like this, and I hate how much it frustrates you that you don't know, and that you're stuck here until you're through with all your treatments and therapies and whatever else. I want you to get better. But you're doing better than I thought you were doing not too long ago. And I'm okay with that."

She hugged him tightly. "Thank you," she whispered.

He kissed her forehead and sweetened her tea.

* * *

"Why do you look like you just farted a rainbow?"

"And a good day to you too," Ron chuckled at her as he slipped into her room and sat down on her bed. She'd had multiple eye surgeries, and her vision was starting to clear. Now, when he looked her in the eyes, she could look back and see for herself that he truly loved and accepted her, and her spirits had lifted significantly. He brushed her lips with his, smiling.

"Rumor has it, KP, beautiful, that Dr. What's-His-Face has finished rebuilding his so called 'memory recovery machine' and it's ready for human trials again. You're mom's working with him to get you in, but they're trying to work a way around a complication that you could have."

"Memory... _recovery_?!"

"Yes ma'am. Your mom didn't want to tell you just yet, she didn't want to get your hopes up. But you are a grown person, and you deserve to know what's going on. But you didn't hear it from me, okay?"

"Got it," she chuckled.

"But... look, even if this whole thing doesn't work out, and you don't get your memory back or your vision back, I still love you, and I always have, and I always will. You're too big a part of my life for me to just give up. I'll always have your back, and I know you know that even though you don't remember anything else."

She smiled. "I know."

"Good." He stood and stretched, and his plain, white t-shirt climbed. There was a raised pink scar on his side.

"What happened?" she asked, pointing.

He looked down and then frowned. "Uh... got in a fight a few months back."

She studied him closely. "A sword fight?"

His head jerked around to look at her so fast, he almost broke his neck. "What?"

"You were in a fight, and someone came at you with something. A machete maybe, or a sword. They cut your back, near your side."

"How do you know... how do you know that?"

She stared at her hands. "I had a nightmare. I couldn't see your face. I can never see your face," she complained, her voice thick with tears. "Someone was trying to hurt you, and you were fighting. And then I heard someone... a girl. She said your name, and that's how I knew your name." She sniffed. "It all went dark. I thought you were going to die."

He swallowed hard. "Was that the only nightmare you had?"

"I always dream about you," she whispered. "Sometimes I wonder if that means you're the only thing in my life worth remembering."

He sat down and took her hands, kissing her cheeks and her lips. "You have a beautiful life, Kimberly Anne. All of it is worth remembering. You have no idea how freaking awesome it feels to know that, out of all the amazing things you have done, and all the people that have been in your life, you remember _me_." He couldn't help his happy grin.

She giggled at his expression, but frowned when he turned serious again. "When I... fight... something happens to me. I have this special... _power..._ that I got, one day, and... I think that somehow, my powers made you see what I was doing."

"So you knew I was alive?"

"What? No! If I had, I would have been here. You know that."

"Well then how did you—I mean, why did I dream about you?"

He sighed. "I don't know, KP. I don't know."

* * *

"I'll be waiting when you get back," he whispered. "Good luck." he pressed his lips to her forehead.

"Don't go," Kim begged, reaching for his hand.

"I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere. But KP, this surgery is important, and I have to stay out here. I'll be waiting for you when you come back, I swear." It was the final corrective surgery for her vision, and she needed it to work in order for them to be able to use the MRM on her without any complications... the previous MRM was contraindicated for certain conditions, and Kim was at a really high risk for permanent damage, seizures, and a host of other side effects if this surgery didn't work.

A whole lot was riding on this going well, and he tried not to show how nervous he was.

"I'm afraid," she whispered.

"I would be too," he said honestly. "But you're going to be okay. I promise."

She was rolled away on her bed after kissing her mother and father goodbye, and he sat down to wait.

One hour passed.

He paced.

Two hours.

He sat, face in his hands, shoulders slumped.

Three hours, twenty-seven minutes, and forty-eight seconds.

He stared out the window at the sunset, his mind blank.

Six hours, nineteen minutes, fifty seconds.

The surgeon came in. the surgery was successful, he said. She was stable throughout, minimal bleeding, no other damage done to her brain. She should be able to resume her physical therapy within a week, and she would recover most of her vision over the course of several months.

He breathed a sigh of relief, sagging into a seat. Anne asked to see her, and then she came back and sat next to him.

"She's still a bit out of it," Anne said gently, "but she wants you."

"When are they going to do the memory thing?"

Anne smiled. "As soon as the doctor clears her. Go see her. She's asking about you. She's... loopy, though. Be warned."

He swallowed the sudden euphoric hope that rose in him and made his way down the hall, slipping into her room. Bandages covered part of her head as well as her eyes.

"That you, Ronnie?" she whispered. "The monkeys came to see me."

He chuckled. "Did they?"

"Mm-hmm. I missed you. Did you know, the monkeys wanted me to tell you that you can help me. But they stole my toes," she finishes with a mournful whisper.

"Aww Kimmie," he whispered, trying hard not to laugh. "Nobody stole your toes, KP. I promise they're all accounted for." He didn't feel the need to freak her out by reminding her that two of them had been cremated not a year before.

"You should touch my boobs."

"Not today, baby," he grinned.

"Maybe next time," she whispered with a slight shrug. "The monkeys said you should take me to training."

He frowned then. "Training?"

"Mm-hmm. They said they would help me if you took me there to train. The monkeys like me."

"Do they?"

"Yeah. They like you too."

If only she knew.

"If you won't touch my boobs, will you at least kiss me?"

"With pleasure," he chuckled, pulling a seat next to her bed. Before plopping into it, he leaned over her, pressing his lips to hers gently. "I love you," he said between kisses. "You're going to be okay."

"I know. They said you do. They said you'd help me be me again."

"I'll do my best, KP baby. Just... sleep, okay?"

"Are you sure you don't want to touch my boobs?" She was asleep before he could answer and fortunately, before he let out a laugh.

He sat, gently rubbing her arm with his fingertips. That conversation was strange. Something tugged at his brain. Yes, it was strange because she was clearly very, very high. But why, of all the things in the world, did her hallucinated dreams consist of _monkeys?! _Those used to be his worst nightmare. Now, they were fine. His fear wasn't as irrational as it used to be.

The monkeys in her dreams had said that he could help her be herself again, and that he had to take her 'there' for training, wherever that was.

He was baffled. There was something else... something more.

She shifted a little, and he immediately looked up. She was awake? She'd only fallen asleep a few minutes before.

"No, I don't want the monkeys to touch my boobs. I said Ronnie."

His laughter escaped in a snort.

"No, I don't want you to touch him either, leave him alone!" Her voice started out stern and stubborn, and ended in a shriek.

He shook her awake. He couldn't tell how her eyes looked because they were covered, but her body shook with sobs.

"Hey, I'm okay, KP baby," he said gently.

"Don't let her touch you, she's not a monkey. She tried, I saw it. She said the monkeys would like it."

"Kimmie, sweetheart, I kind of love how perverted these pain-killers have made you," he said with a chuckle, "but nobody's going to touch me except for you. It has always been that way, even when I thought you were gone."

"Not even if the monkeys say?"

"No. I'm only yours. I promise when the time is right. For now, let's just sleep. Okay?"

"Are you sure she won't touch you? You told her her red thing was pretty, and then she was on you, and she said the monkeys would like it. And then, she was a monkey too, and then she was taking you away and I was scared."

"KP, I..." he trailed off as he realized what she said. Her_ red thing_ was pretty.

"_Your red thing is pretty. I never noticed the patterns on it before."_

"_Thank you, Stoppable-san."_

"_Call me Ron-san," he said with a friendly smile, the kind that was supposed to remind her that they'd been through enough battles and conflicts to forgo formality._

_She leaned over, before he could react, and her lips were on his. Every part of him lit up as he recoiled. His lips were for KP to kiss. Nobody else. No one would kiss those lips again._

_She pulled away when he did, and she looked determined. "You didn't want that."_

_He shook his head, cold fury licking his way through his veins and constricting his throat. "Her body's not even cold yet and you want to put moves on me?"_

"_She has been gone for months. She doesn't need your fidelity anymore."_

_He swallowed, stepping back from her. _

"_You are the Monkey Master," she said. "It is here, by my side, that you will know what that means and what you are truly capable of. _She _held you back. I will not."_

"_Yori. I've lived and breathed for _one _reason in my whole life, and that reason is... dead. She's dead. You know what she meant to me. Part of me is gone, and you'll help me deal with that as a _friend_, or you'll get out of my way."_

_Shortly after that, the argument happened, the one that nearly ended their friendship. He was sorry for how he'd spoken to her, for how his power had almost gotten away from him, the first time since the Lorwardian Attack. But he was never _ever _going to be sorry for defending his KP._

She was asleep again, but he frowned. How did she _know _that that had happened?


End file.
